ng figure and gait that characterized
those around him. His movements were quick, and, when standing
motionless, there was something in his very pose that conveyed an
impression of alertness and of latent strength. His back was turned
toward Rutherford, who was watching him under a sort of subtle
fascination, when suddenly he wheeled, facing him. His eyes were keen
and piercing, and as he looked for an instant at Rutherford with an
expression of suspicion and distrust, and then seemed to survey his
diminutive figure with a quick glance of contempt, that young man felt
a sudden and violent terror in his inmost soul, which was not lessened
when his eyes fell upon a sheath knife and huge revolver in the
stranger's belt. Involuntarily Rutherford's hand went to his hip
pocket, where reposed a dainty, pearl-handled Smith and Wesson,
38-calibre, but he immediately regretted the movement, for the
blue-black eyes watching him scintillated for a moment with a cold,
steel-like glitter, and the lips under the heavy, black beard curled
with a smile of fine scorn, that made our young hero exceedingly
uncomfortable.

The whistle of the approaching train afforded him unspeakable relief,
and at the first opportunity he put himself and his belongings aboard
with a celerity very remarkable in one of his usual dignity.

CHAPTER II.

As the Pacific Express was speeding westward across the prairies, a
young man, half reclining among the cushions of the smoking car, was
enjoying a choice Havana. He took no note of external objects as they
flashed with almost lightning rapidity past the car windows, and he
seemed equally unconscious of the presence of his fellow passengers.
His dress and manner, as well as his nonchalant, graceful attitude,
and even the delicate poise of his cigar, were all indicative of
wealth and refinement, and of a courtesy innate, not acquired. His
head was slightly thrown back, and with half-closed, dreamy eyes, he
watched the coils of blue smoke wreathing and curling above his head,
but his mind was actively engaged in planning the details of the new
life opening up before him in the west. Walter Everard Houston, of New
York, the possessor of a million in his own name, and prospective heir
to many millions more, was en route for a small mining camp, far west,
in the heart of the Rockies, where he was to fill the position of
bookkeeper and corresponding secretary in the office of a mining
company, at a salary